


Pearls Before Swine

by bluemooning



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), BDSM, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Hogtie, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Rope Bondage, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7774648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemooning/pseuds/bluemooning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“On a platter,” he says. “Like I was anyone’s, to do with as they wanted. But when they were touching me, and teasing me, I wanted it - to be you. I wanted your hands on me. I wanted you to - to devour me,”</p><p>His cock gets stiffer just saying the words.</p><p>“Alive,”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pearls Before Swine

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I haven't written my ot4 until now...better late than never right?

“Pathetic,”

Akaashi’s eyes have a warped glow about them when he pats Tsukishima on the rump. He’s smirking with his entire face and when he glances over at Bokuto, even he looks unsettled. “Bokuto-san, doesn’t Tsukishima look so utterly pathetic?”

“I don’t - “ Bokuto starts to say, but when Akaashi gives him a hard pinch on the cheek, he yelps and suddenly sees the light. “He does! So pathetic. So weak,” He settles into his new role so easily, grinning down at Tsukishima. “You’re no match for us,”

He really isn’t, not like this - trussed up on the dining table in a cruel display of his flexibility, his arms bound together in 3 different places, and a short length of rope attaching his freshly bruising wrists to his ankles. It forces his legs bent and his body bowed. His chest is pushed out and it makes his skin prickle in the cool air - and under Akaashi and Bokuto’s gazes. When he mumbles something unintelligible through his gag, Akaashi squats down to meet him at eye level.

“What was that?” he murmurs too softly, and cups Tsukishima’s chin in his hand. His fingers travel so freely and his hand presses hard over Tsukishima’s mouth, silencing him further. “Did you want to say something?”

Lying on his side like this, everything’s turned 90 degrees and without his glasses, it’s all a blur. Akaashi’s sharp features seem more muted, but it’s dangerous to take that and run with it. If Tsukishima isn’t careful, this man will destroy him from the inside out - and with that knowledge, his shoulders heave more, and his eyes struggle to stay focused. 

“I didn’t think so,” says Akaashi. His wandering hands stroke the curves of Tsukishima’s body and the lean lines of his chest, leaving nothing sacred. And when his hands go further south, Bokuto jumps in - he smiles sweetly at Tsukishima and kisses him just as nicely, all over his forehead and on the crest of his cheekbones - with nothing but lips, and for a moment, Tsukishima can believe that he is loved.

“You smell like strawberries,” Bokuto laughs, and runs a hand through Tsukki’s sweat-damp hair. 

“Bokuto-san,”

“Oh, right,” 

And then there it is - that shadowed intensity Bokuto doesn’t show so easily. For all his bold mirth and weepy moods, he seems like an entirely new person when he’s like this - hyper focused on the task at hand, at the man  _ beneath _ his hands. He takes a page out of Akaashi’s book and his groping touch is wholly unsympathetic.

Tsukishima strains more against his bonds as the combined forces of Akaashi and Bokuto overwhelm his senses. They work without mercy. Their palms, cool and rough, touching and groping him shamelessly, are a staggering contrast to his heated skin. He’s sweating all over despite the air conditioning, and isn’t that the funniest thing, he thinks, isn’t it? - and then they’re back upon him and it makes him want to beg. But words don’t come so easily and all he can manage are more debauched moans.

“Look at you,” Akaashi’s voice cuts smoothly through the air. He speaks low and quiet and Tsukishima has to work to hear it. “What would your friend, Yamaguchi - what would he think, if he saw you like this,” He pulls his phone out and doesn’t bother to mute the tell-tale shutter sound. It’s redundant and no sane person wants others to know they’re taking a picture, do they? 

Maybe ignorance is bliss, thinks Tsukishima, as he writhes beneath Bokuto’s hands and the camera lens. 

“Oh, Tsukishima,” Akaashi says breezily, “What’s this?” he asks, and taps the head of Tsukishima’s stiffening cock with his finger. It jitters and jolts with every new sensation wracking his body. And as the minutes pass, he can feel a tightening in his groin, that desperate desire - it makes his chest heave and his nerves go on edge. His eyes are squeezed shut and it’s all he can do to keep himself together.

He will maintain his composure. He won’t break in front of them. Not now. 

But then the front door is swinging open and it brings the sound of padding footsteps. There’s a huff, and then the footsteps are getting louder, bit by bit. Tsukishima’s eyes creak open to meet Kuroo’s slitted pupils and smirking smile. He’s holding cloth sacks that bulge at the seams. “Hi, Tsukki,” he says, and then he’s gone again.

Tsukishima cranes his neck, but Akaashi’s hand is pressing hard on his cheek and pushing it back to face himself. “Bad boy,” He scolds Tsukishima. “Don’t get distracted,”

That’s impossible. Completely impossible. Out of the picture. He can’t do it.

Akaashi sighs. “Kuroo-san, do you really have to put the groceries away right now?”

“Of course,” is Kuroo’s easy reply. “I’m not about to let them spoil in the heat,” He makes such a clatter in the kitchen, opening up the fridge and pantry doors so they bang loudly. Tsukishima swears he’s doing it on purpose. The theory bounces around in his head with nowhere to go, all pent up.

“Cheap bastard,” Bokuto sniggers, and his hands rest easy on Tsukishima’s inner thighs. When he lets his fingers dance over the pale skin, Tsukishima jolts and cries out into his gag again. He can’t help it, this is all out of instinct and they haven’t truly broken him yet, have they? No they haven’t - definitely not. He still has his senses about him, an awareness of the situation - the knowledge that he is currently tied up on the dining table, at the mercy of two unforgiving men - and his boyfriend humming while he puts away the broccoli.

This realization stabs him straight in the heart and it’s a fatal blow. His tense body loses it’s high strung energy, and is replaced by wave after wave of abject misery. Tears stream from his bloodshot eyes, stinging droplets that make it harder to see.

He’s a crying mess covered in his own sweat and drool as it gets quieter around him. These tears overwhelm him and they came too fast, before he could think to control them. As things stand now, all he can do is shake and sob, whimper and weep - and then soft fingertips are brushing the wetness from his face. He opens his eyes and they lock onto Kuroo’s dark slitted ones.

“What’s wrong?” Kuroo asks, and he really doesn’t have any situational awareness, does he. Biting words come to mind but when Kuroo eases the gag out of Tsukishima’s mouth, he can’t think of a thing to say. He pants widely, openly, and his eyes brimming with more tears surely says it all.

Kuroo turns onto Akaashi and Bokuto. “You guys are assholes,”

As Bokuto squawks loudly, Akaashi remains as calm as ever. His hands are folded together and he gives off an air of solidarity. “Look who’s talking, Kuroo-san. You prioritized spinach over your boyfriend,”

“Okay, Akaashi, listen here - “ says Kuroo, and his fingers fumble while he’s undoing Tsukishima’s knots. “You would do the same thing,”

“Would I?” Akaashi says quietly, and with a sudden movement, he’s tipped Bokuto’s chin up, exposing the lean cords of his neck. “Let’s test it out next time,” His words are directed straight at Bokuto, and they both know it. Maybe a lesser man would quake, but whether it’s out of bravery, or stupidity - or maybe both - Bokuto grins widely. He lets Akaashi lean in and kiss him on the lips, as innocent as anything. And he doesn’t fight it when Akaashi eases his tongue into his mouth - instead, he embraces it wholeheartedly, devouring his boyfriend with equal ferocity.

“Let’s,” Kuroo agrees, and when he pulls the last coils of rope away from Tsukishima, his limbs splay out uncontrollably. Kuroo picks him up as easy as a rag doll, carrying him over to the couch and easing him onto his back, lying across the length of the cushions. His arms and legs, too long for their own good, bend themselves into a haphazard position. The material of the cushions is scratchy against his tender skin - the red rope marks encircling his wrists and ankles still burn. 

“Kuroo,” Tsukishima manages to say, but just barely - the man himself is looming darkly over him, his smile having a different air about it.

“Were you good?” He asks, and lowers himself closer to Tsukishima. They’re separated by inches, a space that could be closed so easily. But with Tsukishima lying supine, he’s got nowhere to go, while Kuroo moves as he pleases. He speaks with such sweetness, it’s sickening. “I got the feeling you weren’t,”

“Kuroo, I - “

Kuroo plants a lean finger upon Tsukishima’s lips. “Where’s that honorific, hm?”

Tsukishima swallows hard. They regard each other with steely gazes.

“Kuroo-san, I’ve been good,” The words spill from his mouth in a flood before he can regret it. “I’ve been waiting all afternoon for you, with Akaashi-san and Bokuto-san - patient, I was patient,”

“But were you?” Kuroo challenges him with a smirk. And in moments like this, Tsukishima almost forgets why he’s dating this bastard in the first place. They’re the same type of person - calculating, teasing, analytical - it’s like looking in a mirror. But now, Tsukishima’s reflection has taken on a life of it’s own, and taken up shop in a human host. It’s disconcerting, to say the least. It makes him uneasy.

In a way, it makes a fire burn in Tsukishima. It dries the tears from his cheeks, leaving nothing but salt in their wake.

“I was - “ he says pointedly, “very good,”

Kuroo clicks his tongue and he wears his smolder so well. “I don’t know about that,” His gaze flickers up to Akaashi and Bokuto, who have joined them by the couch. They stand there quietly -  watching, observing. His eyes go back to Tsukishima and lock onto him, pinning him to the couch beneath their weight. “You must have been a real brat if they had to tie you up,” His fingers trace the hard lines of Tsukishima’s chest. “But I guess you didn’t learn your lesson, did you,”

“I learned plenty,” Tsukishima spits back, and then there are fingers in his mouth - Kuroo’s fingers - forcing their way behind his teeth, carving out a space for them to call home. Tsukishima tries to act like he’s not covered in sweat from head to toe, not flushed all over - and he takes it all in stride, even as Kuroo’s fingers probe deeper and deeper.

There’s a short beeping noise, and when Tsukishima tilts his head back to see, Kuroo snaps it right back into place. He grins at the sight of Akaashi, ever-diligent, phone out and recording video. Meanwhile, Bokuto’s got his eyes on the real deal, and his wandering hand has slipped into his pants. He strokes himself so slowly, it must be torture. But his face is flushed red and he’s not so loud anymore - and all the while, he’s still focused on Kuroo, and Tsukishima, and the both of them in action.

Kuroo pulls his fingers out with a wet popping noise. They’re slick and shiny with saliva, and he wipes his hand off in Tsukishima’s hair. “Did you?” He says, and he seems to be pondering. His eyes are looking off in some unknown distance before they slide back on down to meet Tsukishima. “It doesn’t seem like it,”

“Kuroo, you - “

He’s interrupted with more fingers in his mouth, working with fresh fervor. “That’s Kuroo-sama to you,”

With a pang, Tsukishima can feel a rough hand wrap around his dick, sliding up and down its length, red and shiny and experiencing a new kind of agony. 

And then it strikes Tsukishima, like white lightning - what drew him to Kuroo all along. For all their similarities, for all they share, there’s one profound difference between them - passion. Kuroo’s got it in spades, while Tsukishima is more or less devoid of emotion. It just takes so much work, it’s hardly ever worth the effort.

But maybe that sort of thing can be contagious. And maybe that’s not so bad, after all. Tsukishima could have picked a worse ailment to catch from his boyfriend - and if it really is a disease, maybe the whole world just ought to strap on white face masks, and pop pills, and stay in bed, all day - 

But before he can go further with that train of thought, Kuroo suddenly lets go of Tsukishima’s erection. It stands up tall and it’s on the brink, he’s that close to freedom - free from this mood, free from this man’s will.

“Kuroo,” Tsukishima pants, and remembers, “Kuroo-sama,”

Kuroo’s eyes sparkle at the honorific. He runs a hand along Tsukishima’s cheek and the action is almost endearing.

“You were pretty naughty before,” he murmurs lowly, and it makes Tsukishima’s cock jolt again. Coddled by cold air, it can’t do a thing. “You got so worked up with Akaashi and Bokuto. They just barely had you under control. But - “ His eyes gleam more, “Tell me, Tsukki, what were you thinking of?”

Tsukishima holds on to the precious silence. It’s become a commodity and he would be an idiot to let it go that easily. But when Kuroo shrugs, and makes as if to get up, to leave him like this, naked and flushed and on the edge of orgasm - it makes him desperate. He shoots up until he’s sitting upright, and the sudden movement makes his head swim.

He never gets desperate. What is this? Who has he become?

“I was thinking - of you,”

Kuroo grins, like he knows. He reads Tsukishima like an open book. His golden eyes, brimming with tears, speak louder than words. 

“Me?” Kuroo says with the utmost concern. He claps a hand over his heart and his jaw falls all at once. “Little old me? I’m not sure if I believe that, could you explain it a little more?”

He folds his hands and waits. And it’s really not fair, how he goes about things - he’s so much more experienced than Tsukishima, he’s got all these tricks up his sleeve. It’s like he expects Tsukishima to catch up to his pace, but it’s pretty breakneck as is. It makes Tsukishima gasp for air, and fills him with fresh doubt.

Can he really do this? Is it even worth it? Oh, but of course it is - this is Kuroo, after all. Maybe the real question - the real one, all along was - is Tsukishima worth it?

“Well,” Kuroo’s slow voice cuts into his reverie. “Did I shut you up for good?”

His smile this time is different. It’s still laughing at Tsukishima, but at the same time, it’s encouraging. Kuroo wants them both to enjoy this, Tsukishima realizes. That’s the entire point. 

“Not yet, Kuroo-sama,” Tsukishima enunciates each syllable, “If you’d allow me a moment, I’ve got plenty to say about you - what I was thinking, about you,” He leans in closer to Kuroo, and speaks like he’s rehearsed this. And he might have, ever since the day they started dating. These words have been building up in him for a while. They’ve aged and matured over time, and now that they’re being set free, their impact is even more potent. “When Akaashi-san and Bokuto-san tied me up on the dining table - where we eat our food - I felt like, as if, I was being served up,”

It makes him blush to say that, but it’s true, and he’s in too deep now. Far too deep. For better or for worse, he pushes on.

“On a platter,” he says. “Like I was anyone’s, to do with as they wanted. But when they were touching me, and teasing me, I wanted it - to be you. I wanted your hands on me. I wanted you to - to devour me,”

His cock gets stiffer just saying the words.

“Alive,”

Without realizing it, his gaze has become downcast. He shifts his eyes up to Kuroo - but his expression is impossible to read.

Or maybe, Tsukishima’s just lost his mind. Given the circumstances, it seems just as likely.

“Pathetic,” Akaashi says again.

“Pathetic,” Kuroo echoes him.

Bokuto doesn’t say anything. Instead, he gasps loudly as his cum spurts out in a high arc, landing onto Tsukishima’s shoulders, arms, his chest. It’s hot against his skin and when Kuroo rubs the milky stuff around, it makes him burn more.

“I’m flattered, Tsukki,” Kuroo says with a smile. “You, thinking all of that - all those dirty, filthy things - “ He scrapes Bokuto’s cum into his hands and feeds it to Tsukishima slowly. It goes down smoothly enough, once the element of surprise has passed. “You’re a little piggy, aren’t you,”

“I am,”

“You  _ are _ ,” Kuroo reinforces. “You got yourself all worked up, thinking about my cock, didn’t you,”

“I did, Kuroo-san - Kuroo-sama,”

He grins more and with a palm, he presses Tsukishima down onto his back again. “You’re a dirty slut, Tsukki - but you’re my dirty slut,”

All Tsukishima can do is nod. Words have failed him, in the end. Words have always been his shield, his spear - the best sort of weapon, one that could protect him at the same time.

So, this is what it means, to have your breath taken away.

He watches helplessly as Kuroo accepts a tube of lubricant from Bokuto, and squeezes a generous portion onto his fingers. They’re shiny in the late afternoon sunlight - and then they’re not. They’re gone from sight and have thoroughly arrested Tsukishima’s sense of touch. And if he thought that Kuroo’s fingers in his mouth was bad, this is a whole new brand of desecration.

“Wow, Tsukki,” Kuroo breathes out, “Your little whore hole’s opening up so nicely,”

He eases a second finger into Tsukishima’s asshole, working the area with practiced motions, until Tsukishima swears he’s gonna come, he has to, he can’t take it anymore - 

“Not yet,” Kuroo says. “Akaashi was right - you really are so pathetic. So weak,”

“Kuroo-san,”

“Hm?”

“Kuroo- _ sama _ ,” Tsukishima says through gritted teeth, “I’m weak, for you,”

“How flattering,” Kuroo smirks more, and pulls his fingers out of Tsukishima’s pink, gaping hole. He inspects the area and seems satisfied. Without fanfare, he unbuckles his belt, undoes his pants - slips them off leg by leg and throws them to the floor. His boxers are red plaid and they’re Tsukishima’s favorite. “Did you think I’d go easy on you, if you said that?”

Anything bearing resemblance to a retort disappears in a flash when Tsukishima catches sight of Kuroo in all his glory. He looks taller from down here - more imposing. His cock is fully erect and dripping from the tip. He takes a condom from the side table and tears the wrapping apart, putting it on while biting his bottom lip. It’s endearing, and really pulls it all together, in a way. 

He finishes, and draws himself up to his full height. Even though he’s physically shorter than Tsukishima - the latter knows this for a fact - the power of his position isn’t something to be taken lightly.

“No way,” Tsukishima struggles to say, “Don’t - don’t go easy,”

Kuroo strokes his chin. “Interesting,” His hands slide into the groove of Tsukishima’s waist. “What should I do, then?” His gaze briefly flashes to the camera, looking straight into it. The look on his face makes Akaashi tremble, unconsciously - thank goodness he’s not on the receiving end of  _ that _ .

Tsukishima groans internally. But the sentiment can’t stay long. The pressure in his groin is rising and it’s seized precedence. “Fuck me,” He manages a shit-eating grin, “Kuroo-sama,”

That’s all the encouragement Kuroo needs. His fingernails dig into Tsukishima’s skin with his first thrust, plunging deep into Tsukishima. It forces a sharp breath out of him, from the sheer impact. It’s not a new sensation and yet it surprises him every time.

Being the kind man he is, Kuroo starts out at an easy pace, something they can both get used to. It gives them time - time for Tsukishima’s asshole to get used, once again, to the shape of Kuroo’s cock, and time to gaze into each other’s eyes, like lovers do. And they are lovers, through and through - they’ve gone through all the rites and rituals, from fluttering crushes, to - well, this. 

But would a lover torture his sweetheart like this? Would he take in the sight of his flushed, wrecked, boyfriend, and not do a thing to fix it - but instead, make it worse? And it’s so bad right now for Tsukishima. With each of Kuroo’s thrusts, it’s getting so, so bad - but even still, it’s not enough.

“Harder,” Tsukishima gasps out, in between his whining and high cries.

“Your manners,” Kuroo says through clenched teeth, “Where’d they go,”

“I’m - sorry - “ Tsukishima finds his last reserves of energy, and uses them to roll his eyes. “Kuroo-sama, fuck me harder - “ He gasps and his grip on the couch cushions turns his knuckles white, “ - please,”

And then he’s become a living, breathing, sex doll - a hole for Kuroo to use and abuse. His gut tightens up and a great, shuddering feeling is overtaking his body. It’s consuming him alive, and he squeezes his eyes shut. This singular sensation is overwhelming by itself -  he doesn’t need anything else. It’s all in the way and at this point, all he needs is this - what Kuroo does to him. More specifically - Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou. 

_ Kuroo-sama. _

The epithet makes him cry out into the air, and hold on for dear life. Kuroo’s pounding into him at a strong, even pace. It’s enough to draw out the moment, and maybe it lets Kuroo feel good a bit longer.

But Tsukishima’s been worked up for hours now, first under Akaashi and Bokuto, and now with Kuroo - and as nice as Kuroo’s warmth feels, it’s not enough to bring him over the edge. In his hazy, addled state, he decides to push the situation along.

“Please,”

Kuroo glances down at him. “What was that?”

“Please,” Tsukishima says again, and he doesn’t even try to hide the pleading tone in his voice. “Kuroo-sama, please, I want to come, I wanna feel good - please, let me, please - “

“Please, let him,” Akaashi says in a monotone. He doesn’t even jolt when Bokuto hugs him from behind - his phone holding hand stays steady, ever dutiful.

Tsukishima might have said more - most likely told Akaashi off - at least that’s what he thinks he would done, hypothetically. However, here in reality, Kuroo shuts him up with one final thrust, one that finally -  _ finally _ \- sends Tsukishima riding a tall wave, until the water pulls him under. But even that is calming, with the emptiness and the numb feeling enveloping his head. It’s a relief to sink deeper, and he sighs as his cum shoots out of his dick in a staggered rhythm. It lands on his toned stomach in opalescent droplets and it makes him feel hollow, but in a good way.

Above him, Kuroo lets out a guttural moan. He pulls out of Tsukishima and his shoulders go slack. Both of them are breathing hard.

“Holy shit,” says Bokuto, and he’s grinning from ear to ear.

Akaashi’s voice seems to come from far away. “Amazing,” he says, and he’s slipped his phone into his pocket. “Good job, both of you,”

“Thanks,” Kuroo grins, and flashes Akaashi a thumbs up. 

“I mean it,” says Akaashi, and his soft hand on Tsukishima’s cheek is the last thing that registers in his mind, before he closes his eyes and promptly passes out, dimples etched into his flushed cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is very much appreciated :]


End file.
